


Diary of a devoted wife

by RumiReneeClarke



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Consensual Sex, Dark, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Force Dyad (Star Wars), Marriage, Mental Instability, One Shot, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Parents Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Soft Ben Solo, red flags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumiReneeClarke/pseuds/RumiReneeClarke
Summary: “He’s a man of few words, yet his body is an open book, expertly written. To find his love is to read between the lines.”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 21
Kudos: 145





	Diary of a devoted wife

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MalevolentReverie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/gifts).



> I wrote this while listening to Beethoven's Moonlight sonata No.14 in C-sharp minor, Op.27 No.2.  
> It really sets the mood and paces the story along.

I dearly love my husband.

I never question him.

I feel elated, my heart sings, my mind drifts and my body floats all day until he returns home to me. Every evening. 

It’s 9:20 pm, a new moon tonight. I think. Time flies when you’re this happy. I’ve been waiting for over an hour on the little black bench in the front hall. Truly a charming piece of furniture. ‘T was gift, carefully handpicked by him. I had cried when he gave it to me, as it is so thoughtful. Now I have a place to sit and wait for him.

As the clock ticks along, I go over the night list. I’ve taken a hot bath, put on my nightgown, took my medicine, made my tea and dimmed the lights as per usual. I repeat it over and over like a song so I won’t ever forget the steps, using the clock’s ticking as a beat.

Tick

Bath

Tick

Gown

Tick

Pills

Tick

Tea

Tick

Lights

Until I hear the familiar unlocking sound of the door. It slides open and I can hear his heavy boots on our black shiny tiles. Dirt. I’ll have to clean that up later. 

Slow distorted breathing. 

I can see he’s had a bad day. I know what that means. I know exactly what he wants and needs.

I stand up and offer him a greeting with my sweetest smile, I’ve been practicing it in our large round mirror. He responds by removing his bulky mask, ever so politely. 

His face never changes. I can see the hurt, feel it in the deepest part of my soul. He really needs me right now, as I need him, grateful that he’s shown me my place in all of this. 

He finally looks down at me, my six foot 3” husband, with his beautiful eyes, the colour of ashes, copper and honey. 

My heart flutters, waiting patiently for his command. 

“You know what I want.” He says, in his lowest voice, the one I’ve come to know so well.

Adrenaline rushes, I feel alive, needed, wanted.

I am worthy.

I’m so close I can smell his rich cologne; warm notes of cedar, ginger and violet leaves.

I suppress my smile while I start to take of his coat, then his shoes. He doesn’t like it when I smile within these moments, our daily routine. I put them neatly at our lovely front door, after hanging up his long heavy coat in the closet on the right. 

He still stands there, motionless, as if he’s somewhere far away in another galaxy. I wonder where he goes. I wish he would tell me, or take me there, but I understand. He needs me here.

When he stares me in the eyes, sharp and rigid, I feel so nervous still. As if he can see every inch of my soul, understands it, owns it. Yet there is distraught loneliness in there, hidden behind lust and yearning, just as dominant. 

My flesh is covered in goosebumps and my heart is skipping beats as if it no longer knows how to operate.

A little twitch under his eye is all it takes for me to understand. 

Slowly I descend on my knees and start to unbuckle his belt, skilfully. No room for little foolish errors, those are all part of the past. 

Touching the leather makes my body tense up by reflex, old habits die hard I suppose. I know he’s no need for it when he lets me take it off myself. 

I open the button and pull down his zipper. I grab the waistband of his black boxer briefs and take him out, everything on autopilot, minimal touching.

It’s hard not to sigh when I get a full eye of the evidence of his arousal, hard against his right thigh, all for me. Just for me. He’s a man of few words, yet his body is an open book, expertly written. To find his love is to read between the lines. 

On instinct I lick my lips, I made sure to keep them hydrated and moisturized as always, prepared. 

I’m ready to soothe him, alleviate some of the heavy burden wearing down his shoulders. 

I take him in hand before glancing up, stroking his entire length gently. I always wait for that one fleeting moment when he closes his eyes. When he looks calm, on the brink of serenity. Only I can make him feel that way. It’s a brief instant before he regains composure, but it’s mine. 

I trace soft kisses up his smooth warm skin, teasing, tasting. I make sure they’re not sloppy, he’s not fond of making things too messy. I start at the base, moving upward to the tip where I linger, using the edge of my tongue. 

As a fire kindles between my legs, I lick a long stripe up his sensitive underside before taking him in my mouth, as far as I can go. 

Someday I’ll undo him like this. If he’ll allow me. 

My head bobs up and down, finding a steady rhythm and I focus on hollowing my cheeks, sucking him deeper. I can feel the slight stutter of his hips on my tongue and I revel in the sense of connection.

In my mind he’s groaning and encouraging me to take him deeper, but besides wet suckling sounds, the room is deadly silent. 

The confirmation of his pleasure makes me eager to take him all in, yet I’ve never been able to do it. Instead of letting it upset me again I try to make up for it with my hands, gripping the base and rubbing along his length tenderly wherever my lips aren’t. I work my wrists, twisting, squeezing while my tongue licks his weeping tip along the slit. I can taste the salt, the musk, him. 

Spit starts to pool in my mouth, and I make sure to swallow it alongside his cock, earning me the murmur of a groan in the back of his throat. His fists are balled tightly against his sides and I wonder if he’s holding back on touching me. Tears are forming dangerously fast but my gag reflex stands firm, so I persevere, trying to blink away the wetness blurring my vision. 

As my knees start to ache on the cold tile floor, I can feel his stomach tense up, his robust and taut muscles harden before he lets out a deep shuddering breath and withdraws. I was so close. 

I lick my lips again, savouring his taste as I come back up. 

“undress” He breathes, a low articulate mumble, avoiding my eyes like I’m Medusa. 

I slowly start to unbutton the front of my dress, soft as a whisper, the lace tickling my thighs. He always chooses white gowns; it reminds him of my innocence he says. His light in the darkness.

His cold breath makes my nipples pebble, rubbing against the see-through white lace bra I found on the dresser this morning. I reach behind my back to take it off as I feel the strain in my arms and shoulders, I wonder if he’ll tie me up again like this. 

I clench my muscles below as I pull down my damp panties, afraid to let it drip down my thighs. I hope it pleases him. 

I swiftly fold the clothes and place them carefully on the table nearby before returning to my place, doused anew in the shadow of his towering height.

His gaze upon me makes me shiver in anticipation. My breath ragged already, but I’m not afraid. 

He raises his hands, reaching out to me and I slowly start ungloving them. 

His mouth slightly parts at the contact as he stares at them, as if they’re on fire. His ice-cold hands.

I can’t explain the mental battle he’s perpetually having. Emotions running wild through his eyes, creeping out into his features. The herculean figure of immense strength, smothered in swirling blackness, fighting the firm grip of desolation. Before I can start questioning it, his dark brown eyes are back on mine, pupils dilated, like a hunter on its prey, undefeatable, unyielding.

“Go on” I hear, barely, as I’m still sinking in his black pools posing as eyes, trampling to stay afloat. 

I walk towards the bed and gracefully climb it before I lie down on my back in the middle, just as he likes.

My legs slightly part over the silk sheets, just enough to touch myself. I reach up to knead my breasts while closing my eyes, stroking and pinching my nipples, imitating him in my memories. I start rubbing my thighs together in anticipation as I feel him approaching the bed. 

When I open my eyes, he’s standing right in front of me, watching how I trail my hand down my stomach, reaching between my legs. I can’t stop my teeth from biting my lip while I find my most sensitive spot, setting my body alight. I swirl my fingers, giving it just the right pressure and feel tingly waves inside me building, ready to be released. I suppress moaning while I push a finger inside, it’s nothing compared to him, it’s not nearly enough. 

He starts undressing, never losing his eyes on me, almost as if he needs me to encourage him. His gawking invigorates me as I add in another finger, parting my legs a little wider, surpassing the line of sheer vulgarity. 

I caress his body with my stare while my hands keep working, my breaths lingering around me like a faint echo. His body is truly divine, toned by years of training. Broad solid shoulders, corded muscles leading to full biceps, expertly carved out abs and a thick cock. I know his profession requires an exquisite physique, and he works hard for it, never seeming to take a day off. Although I wouldn’t know, I’ve never seen him do it.

He grunts ever so slightly as I linger on his scars, a price he pays frequently. His sides and abdomen are littered with them. I find two new ones on his chest and all I want is to heal them, 2 angry red fine lines, almost parallel. They remind me the ones he gave me right below my right rib. 

I wonder how he gets them but cloak my questions in silence. I won’t ask him. Never again.

He folds his own clothes neatly before approaching the bed.

His eyes seem to be smoldering like embers ready to blaze, a firestorm caught in the form of a man. Only the tightness of his fists is betraying his relaxed posture. He’s barely composing himself.

I’m moving faster now, creating a delicious rhythm, adding solid pressure as my body starts to writhe, making a mess of the silk sheets. My head starts spinning. I’m nearly at my breaking point, screaming his name in my mind when he climbs on, grabs my wrists and holds them above my head. Hell must be empty since the devil is right on top of me. 

My loud sigh is just shy of a sob and in a small act of defiance, a short-lived error, I even offer him some fierce resistance. My breath is ragged and my skin feels flushed. 

He’s grinning and I’m ready for him to take me down the depths, where fire licks the wounds. 

My husband doesn’t know how to be gentle, it is a word unknown, and so I welcome his crushing plump lips in a passionate moment of pure bliss, our love so tangible. 

I hope his primal desire was ignited by watching me getting nearly undone by my own hand, but a part of me thinks it was because of my little spur of rebellion. 

He bites and licks as I hungrily push back, needing to be closer. Our mouths work together like they’re made to do so.

My senses are seduced, no longer able to think straight as I push my tongue through the seam of his lips and delve inside his mouth. His barely there stubble tickles my skin.

I moan at the contact of body heat against my own and try to wiggle my wrists free. I’m desperate to touch him.

He grabs my jaw to untangle before wrapping his rough hand around my throat to hold me back, it almost covers it completely. 

“Rey” He sighs and grimaces between heavy breaths. I freeze. 

My name. 

I overstepped. He needs to be in control. Always. 

I think it’s all over before he slams his lips to mine again with vigor and nearly knocks all wind from my lungs. I feel his cock slide between my slippery folds, hitting my spot over and over as whimpers escape in anticipation. His mouth is equally demanding, forcing our tongues in an intoxicating dance. My body begins to tremble uncontrollably as our breaths mingle, heat spreading from the top of my head to the tips of my toes like heady magic. My breath is quickening and my insides are climbing a mountain again, racing to the top so I can plunge and fall all over. 

The high pitch of my wail reverberates through the entire room when he releases my lips and bites my nipple. He rolls the flesh between his teeth before lapping and twisting it again, making every nerve go rigid. 

I can’t keep quiet and he grunts in displeasure, squeezing my wrists harder together before lifting me up and flipping me over on my stomach as if I’m a flimsy page in a book. 

Immediately he lifts my hips and brushes his hand along the length of my entire spine, grabbing my hair at the base of my neck. He’s pulling until I arch my back to his liking. I can feel his engorged flesh brushing through my folds again and I’m panting as waves of pleasure run through me.

He smacks my behind, hard, and I cry out. By reflex I pull away, but his firm grasp on my hair pulls me back and in one motion he slides all the way inside. Finally. I instantly remember why he’s the half that makes me whole. 

When he’s fully seated inside of me, he starts thrusting into my welcoming body, his for the taking. 

There are no windows in here but I swear I can see stars when he fucks me like this. His thrusts slow and measured, building up gradually. It’s always a tight fit, no matter how ready I am, but I’ve come to love the feeling, the mix of pain and pleasure, the way his length burns and stretches, driving for satisfaction. 

His grip is ruthless as his hips start to hit my behind. My face grows red and flustered, I’m panting both from the lewdness of the sounds of his skin slapping mine as well as the exertion of arching my back while keeping balance. 

I grunt as I push back, hips bucking, wanting to take whatever he gives me and he almost growls, thrusting faster as he deliriously hits my walls inside like an everlasting fire. He’s sweating from the effort. He glides into me in a maddening rhythm, making my my eyes roll back into the back of my as he tries push even deeper. 

Stars, I love you.

I lift up and I can see our reflection in the mirror at the head of our bed. His glistening body towering over mine. Possessive, desperately holding on to my hips with a vice-like grip as if I could slip away any second. I glare up and see him staring at himself while he’s plunging inside me, using me. His gaze is cold, unscrupulous, as if he’s simply not there at all. 

I moan loudly and clench my inner muscles to get his attention. 

The spell brakes and he notices me watching him in the mirror. He seems caught off guard and pushes my head in the pillows, thrusting ferociously now on the chase for release and ecstasy.

I can feel his body vibrating above me as he’s unable to hold back any longer. I’m nearly there as well before he explodes inside me with a harsh groan. Maybe next time. 

His breath is heavy on my shoulders and neck, he’s leaning over me so close it’s almost an embrace. I swear I can feel his lips brushing my skin before he pulls out and falls back on the mattress. I roll over as well and watch him staring at the ceiling, still out of breath. 

I could lay here forever, just looking at him while he’s laying there, his body sprawled in wild abandon, hair a ravaged mess. He almost seems careless. 

“Thank you” I whisper. 

His eyes dart my way, searching mine. His features are a mix of sadness and hope, as if he’s looking for something, someone. He brushes his hand along my cheek, and I lean into it, smiling. 

He comes closer and I can see a slight tremor in his lower lip as light flickers in his eyes. Our faces nearly touch, breaths growing shallow when he suddenly averts his face and retracts his hand, balling it up in a fist. He takes a deep breath and swallows before turning his back on me. 

Confused, I pull the sheets over us both, making sure his back is fully covered. I fall asleep reminiscing over what happened. 

When I wake up he’s already gone.

I notice my pre-selected clothes next to my bottle of vitamins on the dresser by the bathroom door again. Despite his absurd schedule he takes time to take care of me, like I take care of him. I get up and start going over the daytime list in my head as the clock ticks along. 

And until he comes back to me tonight, I’ll be waiting, like I will, every day, for as long as I live, for as long as he allows me to.

**Author's Note:**

> Dying to hear your thoughts.
> 
> Find me on twitter: RRCLarke1
> 
> Confused? Maybe it’s one of these..
> 
> \- The girl isn't Rey, but Kylo really wants her to be, it's not the real thing thus he'll never be satisfied.  
> \- The girl is Rey and she just really dearly loves her husband.  
> \- The girl is Rey, but Kylo has pushed her mind too far and now she's but a shadow of herself, thus he'll never be satisfied.  
> \- The girl is Rey, captured, and Kylo has her take drugs to comply, yet it affects her personality, thus he'll never be satisfied.  
> \- The girl is Rey, but she suffered severe trauma to the head during a fight and will never be the same, thus he'll never be satisfied.  
> \- The girl is Rey, but she suffered severe trauma to the head. Kylo tries to fix this by trying out new medication everyday in the hopes of recovery, yet he failed again.


End file.
